


Thicker Than Water, Harder Than Ice

by taichara



Category: Voltron Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:59:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pushed to his limit of sanity by forces beyond his control, Sven makes the only choice he can see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker Than Water, Harder Than Ice

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _any, any, bad blood_

_For what I am about to do, may history forgive me._

_For what I have done ... there is no forgiveness._

Preparations were nearly complete. Sven's small craft, its hull lined with 'gifted' stealth-cells, crouched like an ominous vulture just inside the echoing hall's wide bay doors; in minutes, moments, even, the sleek dark ship would carry him back to Arus.

Back to Arus where his hell began, gift of that witch-cat's tainted bite --

Snarls of anger echoed in his ears, and it took precious seconds to realize they came from his own throat. Sven throttled down on the rage, eyes screwing closed even as he backed away from the too-fragile warming pod and its precious cago, retreated towards his scout ship and away from his son.

_No. I cannot -- I cannot lose myself. Not here. Not now. Not like that._

_Romelle ..._

The memory welled up, unbidden. 

The sudden anger, stronger than it had ever been -- he'd never been the same since the damned cat, since the ambush, the Pit of Skulls, mood swings blamed on trauma and deprivation -- had swallowed his sense like a blood red tide.

And then the blood tide was all too real.

_May I be damned._

_But for his sake ..._

Slamming a gloved fist on the door-stud, Sven retreated into the endless blizzard. Crydor's frozen hell was nothing to him, now; let the fimbulwinter that killed his colony's hopes sink icy fangs into his burning blood, cool his temper and save his soul ...

At least for now. But it was harder, harder, with every passing week, now. 

He -- they -- were running out of time.

_If only I had known years ago ... I would have stayed in the Pit._

_Let me have died and rotted there._

Again, the memories battered against him. Romelle had led him back to the living, then; now he'd exchanged dry bones for dead ruins and blood-stained hands.

They'd said he'd shown the witch's tainted mark, when the red tide took him, but that didn't matter. It could never matter, could never absolve him of his crime. And now, now --

_Now I truck with the devil himself to barter for my child's life._

_But if it works ... if it works ..._

If it worked, then there was hope. What he could not do for her, he would achieve for their child; and if that meant to betray old comrades, then so be it. 

Hardening his heart against the pangs of guilt, Sven dragged a secondary access open briefly and stomped inside, shaking the snow from the heavy folds of his survival suit. A glance at the shuttle's hovering headout told him it was ready, primed to face the fight against Crydor's frigid atmosphere.

It was time.

Sven strode to the warming pod, checked and re-checked the controls, desperate for a reassurance he knew he'd never find. Not while the witch's brew in his veins had its way with him. Not if he'd passed that taint to his child ...

_If only I can save him, I could not care less about my future._

_I have no future._

_Let me be tried for my crimes, once he's safe._

_That is all I ask._

The pod was secure. Jaw clenched against rage and betrayal both, Sven stowed it in a cubby heated with a few precious powercells, whispered a prayer, and turned away.

Before him crouched the shuttle, and his traitorous path.

When he returned, it would be with Blue Lion.

_For what I am about to do ..._


End file.
